THE DEVIL IN CREAM SILK

The elevator ride to the seventy-fourth floor of the Vance Financial Tower was thirty seconds of pure pressurized silence. Ethan stood beside his father, watching the digital floor counter light up in crisp blue numbers.

The ragged clothes were gone. Samuel Vance was now encased in a bespoke charcoal suit, his silver hair brushed back, his cold gray eyes reflecting the steel interior of the car. The transformation from sidewalk vagrant to corporate executioner was absolute.

"They're going to fight, Ethan," Samuel said without turning his head. "Julianna’s father, Richard Sterling, holds thirty percent of the voting shares. When he realizes his daughter is in a federal holding cell, he will attempt to liquidate the asset reserves before the opening bell tomorrow."

"Let him try," Ethan replied, his voice hardening. The shock that had paralyzed him outside the bridal shop had burned away, leaving behind a cold, sharp resolve. "I transferred the master decryption keys to our private server twenty minutes ago."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft pneumatic hiss.

The executive boardroom was a glass cage suspended over the Manhattan skyline. Seated around the thirty-foot mahogany table were twelve senior directors, their faces illuminated by the pale light of their laptops. At the head of the table sat Richard Sterling—a man with razor-sharp features, silver hair, and a tailored suit that cost more than most people earned in a year.

Sterling didn't look up when the doors opened. He was busy typing frantically into an encrypted tablet.

"You're late, Ethan," Sterling said, his tone dripping with condescending superiority. "And where is your bride? The press team is waiting downstairs for the formal merger announcement."

Samuel stepped into the room, his leather soles striking the polished hardwood floor like deliberate gunshots.